


Dream Foregone

by Nosferatank



Series: Time Shall Not Sever [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (mostly at solon because what can i say? i like killing this dude in gruesome ways), Adopted Sibling Relationship(s), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Violence, Brainweird Dragon Stuff, Character Death, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Scars, Trans Male Characters, Whole lotta those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferatank/pseuds/Nosferatank
Summary: The Church claimed soul-bonds were gifts from the Goddess, tying you to your family beyond blood-relations. More scientific minds think perhaps there was a familial connection in previous lives, or some obscure magical connection. Still, the agreed-upon average was two soulmates per individual.Jeralt's son had four.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is it worth a tear, is it worth an hour,  
To think of things that are well outworn?  
Of fruitless husk and fugitive flower,  
The dream foregone and the deed forborne?  
Though joy be done with and grief be vain,  
Time shall not sever us wholly in twain.
> 
> -  
I'm aro and having an excellent time turning the typical soulmates au on its head.  
Chapter is pretty short, but updates will be frequent, so no worries! As always, feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos!

Like many children in Fodlan, Edelgard was born with scars.

Not literal ones, of course. Soulmarks, reflecting the actual scars on an individual’s soulmate. The church claimed the connections were gifts from the Goddess, so that none of her followers would ever be without family, even if they lost all of their blood-family. Less religious people sometimes supposed that the connection came from being born into the same family in a past life. But to Edelgard, it simply was a fact of life. She knew that her Kindred was older than her, a soul-sibling perhaps, or a parent, or an aunt or uncle. 

But none of that mattered, really, when Edelgard had no way to know who they were or how to get help from them.

Her family’s tormentors had been briefly interested in the horizontal pink soul-scar on her chest, but ultimately dismissed it as unimportant. 

There were purple track marks on her neck and inside her elbows, now, identical to the physical scars she bore from the experimentation. Edelgard wondered if perhaps it was one of her own half-siblings who had perished, and secretly, selfishly hoped it was. Nobody deserved this fate. Death seemed like a better option than a life like this, needles in her neck and burning oil in her blood and the red haze that descended on her mind during the ‘sessions’. 

And after her eldest brother had attempted to take his own life, the pale monsters started keeping their ‘subjects’ chained. 

Edelgard, with all the determination in her young heart and fire in her eyes, resolved that she would _break_ the system that placed she and her siblings and her unknown soulmate in this situation, helpless at the hands of people who used crests and value them so much. 

————

Dimitri didn’t feel it when Glenn was killed. 

If he had the presence of mind to recognize it, he would have felt the brief sting as a thin line of blue-black encircled his neck, the last reminder he would ever have of his soul-brother. As it was, he had been far too shell-shocked by the blast of Meteor that exploded behind his family’s carriage. And despite Lambert shoving him out of the shattered remains of the carriage first, Dimitri was far from unscathed by the fiery siege spell. When the multitudes of soldiers emerged from the flames to scour the wreckage, Glenn had grabbed Dimitri and tossed him into a deep ditch, yelling at him to stay hidden. 

Dimitri’s soul-brother died for Lambert that day. And it was for naught, as Lambert’s head followed Glenn’s.

When Dimitri crawled out of the ditch to the stench of burning flesh and howls of the dying, the only one left alive by the sheer mistake of the attackers, the last thing he remembered thinking was ‘_it should have been me_’

———

Claude figured his soulmate was either a truly powerful warrior, or a really, _really_ bad one. At least, the orange one was. Pink, whoever they were, only left him with a straight-edge slice over his heart. Which was a bit weird, but not too obvious compared to the spattering of orange that seemed to cover him like paint. 

It wasn’t long before he realized it was the former, after his mother compared her orange marks to his and told him about her soul-sister, Judith. She was a war hero, his mother said, a woman who feared neither beast nor man and used her wits and every trick available to her, downing enemies much greater in size and power. 

Needless to say, to a young Claude sporting a new bruise from his bullying neighbors and only recently verbalizing that he was not a girl, his Aunt Judith became something of an inspiration to them. He was no great warrior, not as a child, but that didn’t mean he was unable to fight smarter, rather than harder. Learning to fight especially dirty wasn’t hard- he was very familiar with where jabs hurt the most or where a punch would blow the breath out of someone. And when Claude turned thirteen, he apprenticed at the local apothecary despite his high birth in order to learn to brew poisons as well as potions. 

The sounds of one of Claude’s greatest tormentors retching up his lunch behind a building sounded like victory.

———

Jeralt wondered if one day soon he’d be resigned to adopting a gaggle of children, if Byleth’s soulmarks were any indication. Considering his first mark had shown up when he was fifteen, Jeralt even figured a life with his mercenary company would be better than whatever hard life had given the unknown soulmates those scars. 

Byleth’s soulmates were undoubtedly younger than him, and strangely numerous. The average person was perhaps bound to one or two soulmates. 

Byleth had four colors painting him by the time he was seventeen. 

Jeralt’s only child was difficult to read, even for him, but it was clear he wasn’t emotionless. Jeralt had caught the slight downward tug of Byleth’s mouth when he caught sight of a scar that indicated one of his soulmates survived a particularly harsh injury. Jeralt, too, had started keeping track of them, because Byleth’s soulmates were family to him as well by extension. 

Yellow had shown up first, and seemed to be from a rough life in general, with a few bright gashes on arms and legs, and one splash of yellow on his shoulder like something from boiling water or acid. Blue left Byleth with a mass of mottled azure on his back and a few splinter-scars on his hands. Red’s were… concerning, to say the least. They left small pricks of scarlet on his neck and blood-colored rings around his wrists, as if his soulmate had been struggling against cuffs. 

Green only showed as a single spot on the back of his son’s neck, and was the only scar he’d had from them since he was born. 

With how soulmates worked, he’d be likely to meet at least one of them. A given individual will almost always meet at least one of their soulmates, as incomprehensible as it may seem. Perhaps it was proof the Goddess _was_ still around, watching over her subjects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> claude is trans over here! im also using kylee’s claude scar headcanons (with permission of course) heres a [link](https://kynimdraws.tumblr.com/post/187248716043) to that  
[tumblr](https://anankos.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the narrative structure is fairly broken on purpose; this fic is meant to be snapshots, as i’m hoping yallve played at least one route by this point. i mostly just want to touch on the real important bits, where the soulmate thing is actually really relevant.
> 
> also i'm not gonna lie, I had the most fun writing dima's segment.

Byleth found it strange, how most nobles would hide their soul-marks. Even the school uniform reflected that, with high collars and the option for gloves or long skirts. It didn’t seem to be a personal thing to cover up, like it was for Byleth- rather a cultural thing. 

And he really had to start getting familiar with how nobles operated, because he was somehow conscripted into the role of weapons instructor for thirty-something well-off ‘delinquents’ as Sothis put it. It was daunting, but it helped if Byleth thought of it like putting a newbie in the Company through their paces. 

_They_ tended to underestimate him due to his youth, too. 

He mused that he might need to get one of the other professors’ help with gauging the magically-focused students. Byleth knew some white magic, but a mage he was not. 

The fifth student to be picked for a test-spar against him, Ashe, hit the dirt after a solid shoulder-check. He yielded quickly after seeing the dull training lance pointed at his chin, and sheepishly grabbed Byleth’s offered hand to haul himself up and scurry next to a ginger-haired girl whose grey soul-scar reflected Ashe’s natural one. Byleth made some notes on the pad of parchment he brought to the training grounds. Ashe had potential for the lance, but seemed to be more suited for knifework, and probably had a history with it.

Though not everyone would get their evaluation today, the entire class was gathered around the packed dirt of the arena, ranging from blatant excitement at the prospect at beating around somebody with pointy sticks or terrified of confrontation. Byleth decided he ought to have a go at one of the house leaders. 

“Edelgard, you’re up.” 

The girl in question had been watching the spars very carefully, and Byleth knew for a fact she knew her way around an axe. Byleth snagged a wooden training axe for himself and gave her no time to brace herself before forcing her on the defensive. He’d already seen her fight for real, and as such already knew her skill level. 

The spar ended after Edelgard took a knee to the gut and found herself in a chokehold, axe hitting the dirt after Byleth grabbed her wrist and jabbed his fingers into the pressure point. 

“Do you yield?” Byleth asked.

Edelgard replied with a grunt and a full-body jerk, heel bouncing off his greaves as she fought to free herself. 

“Miss Hresvelg, this isn’t a real fight. Please yield.”

And to his surprise, she did. Edelgard tapped three times on his forearm with her free hand, and Byleth let her go. She didn’t gasp for air like a drowning man, but still was visibly heaving for breath. She nodded to him with a strange look in her eye and adjusted her rumpled collar, but not before Byleth spotted the thick cluster of spots on her neck, like a snake had bitten the same area a dozen times. 

They exactly matched the red spots on his own neck, covered by his tunic and light armor.

—

Later, when the last student for the day had their spar and everyone began to file out of the training hall, chattering and complaining to their peers, Byleth called out at their retreating backs. 

“Miss Hresvelg, please stay for a moment.”

The princess stilled, nodded at the looming young man beside her, and turned on her heel to walk back to the new professor while Hubert continued outside. Byleth had seen his type before, and had no doubt Hubert would be watching them from some shadowed corner. 

“Yes, Professor?” Edelgard asked, a respectful distance away. 

Byleth shook his head. “This isn’t about the spar, don’t worry about that, you did great. Just, if you need any help, feel free to come to me. Any time of day.”

Edelgard frowned, looking visibly confused. “But professor, you said I did fine. Unless there are specific weaknesses I need to work on?”

Goddess, he was terrible with conversation with anybody who wasn’t his father or one of Jeralt’s sub-captains. Perhaps it was better to just show her. 

“Here, just look.” He said as he unbuckled his gauntlets and slid off his glove. 

Byleth offered his hand to her, and she stepped closer in order to see why, exactly, he was stretching out his hand to her. His eyes hadn’t deceived him, and Edelgard definitely recognized the red cuff marks around his wrists. 

“… I see.” she murmured. 

Grateful that she understood, Byleth began putting his glove and gauntlet back on. “I’m serious, though. It doesn’t need to be school-related. If you need help with something, if you need to get out of the monastery, or something is going on at home, talk to me. My door is always open.”

Edelgard looked taken aback by such deep-seated loyalty professed by someone she probably thought was emotionless. “I… Thank you, Professor. I will.”

——

Later, during the evening meal, Jeralt sat across from his son with a heavy sigh. Working with Rhea so close was nerve-wracking, especially with Byleth of all people being in her territory with him. Byleth himself looked fine, if a little ponderous. 

“The imperial princess is my sister.” Byleth said, with absolutely no lead-up.

Jeralt choked on his ale.

———

In the dead of night, Dimitri finally gave up on chasing sleep. He didn’t bother changing out of his sleeping doublet and trousers, instead just shoving his feet into his boots and striding out the door as quickly as possible. 

There was nobody around in the monastery courtyard except the cats, and even they were simply lazing, since even at night the heat of the new Garland Moon hung heavy and humid. Dimitri headed straight for the training grounds, hoping that he could at least escape the nightmares of Lonato’s rebellion a scant few days earlier through sheer exhaustion. 

When he arrived, all the torches were lit, and he wasn’t alone. 

Byleth seemed to be unable to sleep as well, tearing through sword forms that Dimitri had never seen before. He’d forgone his tunic to escape the heat, practicing in just his trousers and the binding wraps on his upper chest.

The blotches of bright blue rippling across his entire back were also on full display.

Dimitri froze, and felt the matching flesh-scars twinge in sympathy. Took a deep breath, and casually made his way to the weapons rack for a lance. Byleth had inevitably noticed him, but said nothing, simply striking the empty air with training weapons in the dead of night.

Dimitri was breathing heavily after a particularly hard bout, leaning on his lance. He’d put far too much strength behind his forms, and ended up breaking a few of the more worn-out training lances. He raised his head to find a waterskin proffered a mere foot away from his face, with the hand attached to it leading up to the young professor (his Kindred). 

Dimitri took the waterskin gratefully and chugged it, embarrassingly aware of the ring of navy blue around his neck. He hated the sympathy it garnered, the reminder that it existed and why it was there. 

When Dimitri lowered the waterskin from his mouth, Byleth wasn’t looking at the decapitation soul-scar, but at the thick pink line scored across his forearm. 

“Do you want to know where that came from?”

Dimitri stared for a brief moment before remembering himself. “Pardon?”

Byleth continued on, unheeding of Dimitri’s reluctance to connect with his surviving soulmate. “I raised by arm to block a sword blow, because I was sixteen and an idiot.”

Somehow, despite his flat affect, Byleth’s expression managed to look wry. “Dad told me if I was going to go around using my fleshy limbs to parry sharp objects, I should at least wear armor.”

When Dimitri said nothing in return, Byleth sighed. 

“You don’t have to acknowledge it if you don’t want to, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s hand started to reach out to grab Byleth before he left. “Wait, no, I do. It has just… it’s been hard, the past few days. For Ashe especially.” 

“It has.” Byleth murmured in agreement. “… When I saw the Archbishop for the mission report, I wanted to punch her in the face.”

Dimitri startled, because how was he supposed to react to that? Lady Rhea was the head of the church of Seiros in its entirety! Surely… surely…

“I asked her why she needed to send Ashe of all people on this assignment, and you know what she said?” Byleth continued, working himself up into a visible temper, subtle as it was. 

“She said it would be a valuable lesson about those who point their swords at the heavens.”

And now Dimitri understood why the professor was working his frustration out so vigorously. 

“That sounds unnecessary. Cruel.” He said, the training lance haft creaking dangerously beneath his grip.

“But she… she is divinely ordained. Surely she had reason, or saw something we did not?” He asked, but the lie sounded weak to his ears, and evidently Byleth’s as well. 

“She’s not infallible. Don’t try and hide from how you feel about her, at least not to yourself.” Byleth said. “Be as angry at her as you want, just don’t let it consume you.” 

And he was clearly done dispensing advice after that, and instead trotted off a few paces to start once again moving through sword forms at blinding speed. Even after he went back to his forms himself, Dimitri wondered how in the hells the professor had pinned his thoughts down so fast. 

“_You know why._” Glenn whispered over his shoulder before Dimitri could turn on his heel and continue the second set of lance forms.

Byleth was the first to depart, pulling his loose shirt on and grabbing his waterskin on his way out. 

“Goodnight, Professor.” Dimitri called, because it was only polite. 

“It’s morning. And you can call me Byleth, you know. Having my brother call me ‘Professor’ is just weird.”

Dimitri flushed, and not just from exertion. “Er, yes. Good night, Byleth.”

Byleth just shrugged and muttered “Still morning.” and exited the arena. 

———

As much as he teased her for her whining, Claude thought Hilda might be onto something when she complained about the route to Gronder Field. It was relatively short as far as their usual monthly mission commutes go, but this one managed to be just plain _boring_ in a way the past ones weren’t. So he could sympathize with Hilda for once. He resigned himself to staring out at endless, bland plains from atop his horse and formulating the most viable strategies for the Golden Deer to achieve victory at the mock battle. 

Claude’s thoughts took a slightly different turn when he spotted the professor’s mount ambling closer to where the Deer were clustered. Now _there_ was a mystery right there. Byleth was an outlier compared to most of the faculty in that Claude just couldn’t get a solid read on the man. He was inscrutable, socially blunt, and just plain _weird_. 

So Claude was a naturally curious spirit. Sue him. 

So he sidled his horse up to Byleth’s, and attempted to begin a conversation. “So, you used to be a mercenary so you travelled a lot, right? See anywhere really interesting?”

Byleth just hummed in acknowledgment, clearly not paying very much attention. Perhaps something a bit closer to home…“Met any of your soulmates?”

Byleth jerked, just a fraction of an inch, and his eyes briefly flickered off to the other side, where another cluster of students and some knights were.

Interesting. Nothing conclusive, but it such an instinctual response told Claude a little bit, just enough. The professor most likely had a soulmate among the students or perhaps the knights- in fact, Claude would bet gold pieces on it.

Byleth’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t nobles dissuaded from being so… nosy, Claude?”

“Oh, they are.” Claude shrugged. “But I don’t let it stop me. Too often nobles will let vital information slip past them for the sake of propriety.”

“And my personal life is vital information.”

“Nah, that’s just me being nosy.” Claude smirked playfully. 

Byleth looked astoundingly unimpressed. “Well, I have in fact met two of my siblings here. I won’t tell you who they are, of course, because _I_ respect their right to privacy.”

Which, ok, was expected. Still, this was almost chatty for the professor, so Claude pushed the conversation onwards. 

“Well, I’ve only met one. How about I tell you about my unknown Kindred, and maybe I’ll know who your unknown one is.”

“A surprisingly balanced suggestion, from you. Fine.”

The silence was very pointed, most certainly in Claude’s direction. “You don’t give an inch, huh? Well, Mother said I’d had Pink since I was born. Most of the marks from them are just combat scars, nothing major.”

Byleth shrugged minutely. “Yellow is mostly the same. Some kind of liquid burn on the left shoulder but beyond that, nothing stands out. Now excuse me.” He said, as if he hadn’t just answered Claude’s lighthearted curiosity about soulmates in the most unlikely way possible. 

Claude let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are deeply appreciated! I'm also always up to chat about this kinda stuff so feel free.
> 
> OH YEAH also? u thought the the only trans character was claude but SURPRISE!
> 
> [tumblr](https://anankos.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth: go crazy go feral.

Edelgard wondered if perhaps it was foolish to get so attached to her Kindred, after watching him be swallowed by Solon. That _swine_. Thales was cruel man, as were many of the leaders of Those Who Slither, but Solon in particular took such glee in his ‘experiments’ that it made Edelgard nauseous to be in his vicinity, however useful he was. 

So when Byleth cut through the sky with the Creator Sword, seething with divine wrath, Edelgard gladly led the charge against Solon. If Thales wanted to complain about his pet madman dying, Edelgard could easily throw it back into his face that it was Solon’s own damn fault for getting himself killed. That she hated the man was irrelevant, of course. 

The paltry reinforcements Solon summoned were clearly a last-ditch attempt to stave off the black-garbed reaper coming for his head, meaning little in the face of the students and their deeply angered instructor. Edelgard noticed that like her, Claude and Dimitri were struggling to keep up with the professor as he cut a swathe through the forest, crest flaring up behind him like a glowing threat display. She’d never seen much emotion on his face at all, so catching glimpses of such sudden wrath disconcerted Edelgard. It, along with the dragon-green hair, made the princess wonder if it was really her soul-brother in that body. 

It took little time to reach the protective rune-circle Solon warped to, between Byleth’s rampage and the students that accompanied him. 

The fight was so brief it could hardly be called that. 

Solon, traces of tangible fear lingering about him, wasted no time launching a Miasma spell at the greatest threat. Byleth fluidly ducked under the magic and before Edelgard could blink he was upon the mage. He didn’t even bother with the sword, instead cutting off Solon’s shout by digging his gauntleted fingers into the sides of Solon’s neck. Byleth snarled, a guttural sound, and squeezed. 

Solon’s choking cut off with a wet gurgle as the professor wrenched his grip back, a meaty tearing sound accompanying the action. Solon feebly grasped at the remaining sinews of his neck before falling over, death releasing him from his gruesome fate. 

Numbly, Edelgard thought about the Immaculate One, the Goddess, and how dragons, bestial as they were, preferred to fight with their teeth and claws.

Byleth released the bloody mass of blood vessels and muscle and esophagus, propping himself up on the Creator Sword like the wind had been knocked out of him. Dimitri was the first to reach him, showing neither sense nor fear in the face of the professor’s brutality. Edelgard stoically stood in place despite wishing to do the same, every natural instinct insisting she go to her Kindred. She held it off, because Edelgard had no inkling of Byleth’s intentions or even if he was _human_ anymore. 

But Byleth did nothing of the sort, instead gratefully taking Claude’s outstretched hand, heedless of the bloodstains he was leaving on the young lord’s uniform. And as whatever fueled his rampage left him, Byleth allowed Dimitri to support him, the prince leaning into the touch of his soul-brother. 

Perhaps it would have been better, if over one of their weekly tea-breaks Byleth had not shared his other soulmates with her. If so, maybe Edelgard would feel less like she was losing her family to those who would be her enemies. 

Byleth’s questing look when she turned her back and left to check on the Eagles almost burned.

———

Months later, during the routine tea and conversation Edelgard had with her brother, she once again wished things could be different, but still hoped this would be the last time she saw Byleth.

Not seeing her soulmate again was better than facing him on the battlefield, after all. 

Funny, how he used to be unreadable, leaving Edelgard wondering if her second Kindred even liked her. In comparison, Lysithea was far easier to talk to, both on lighthearted and more serious topics. Byleth was a deep, solid presence, a stone in the middle of the river upon which she could regain her footing. 

So she tried her best to keep conversation from straying too close to the imperial plans, and assured the professor that she was fine when he inquired after her. 

The weather was quite pleasant at this hour, with the sun setting and the courtyard quiet. Neither of them were chatterers, so they enjoyed the walk back to the dorms in silence. Just before they reached the professor’s room, Edelgard stopped, prompting Byleth to halt as well. 

“Byleth.” She began. He cocked his head slightly in reply, not unlike an owl, and waited patiently for her to go on.

“I just wanted to thank you, for being here. Considering the fates of my other siblings, it was… nice, to have some family again.”

Leaving no time to second-guess herself, Edelgard wrapped Byleth in a somewhat stiff, but still meaningful embrace. Such public softness was never encouraged in imperial heirs, not at the cusp of adulthood, but Edelgard felt she could hug her brother before going to war; likely against Byleth himself. A selfish indulgence perhaps, but she allowed herself to appreciate the hug before parting and departing to her own dorm. 

“Wait.” Byleth said. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Yes, it is.” She lied. “I wish you the best of luck for the revelation from the Goddess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edelgard’s pov isnt exactly nice to dragons. calling them bestial is pretty fuckin rude, edie. dragons just dont think quite like humans, and people tend to tack on arbitrary shit to what makes a ‘clean’ fight. a person is no more uninvolved with another's death if they used a blade as an intermediary or their bare hands.
> 
> not to mention dragons claws aren’t really great for holding onto and swinging weapons lmao
> 
> Short chapter, but the next one should be up pretty soon after this one. as always i live for comments please talk to me! 
> 
> [tumblr](https://anankos.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard in general is a really hard character to write, not gonna lie. with the known fact that she’d been planning her war for a LONG time, combined with the nature of soulmates in this universe’s culture, she’d struggle with trying to distance herself emotionally from someone she knows has a high likelihood of opposing her. 
> 
> Since this is the last chapter, I’m gonna ask for a lot of patience for part 2. I don’t post a fic until the entire piece is finished, i have a VERY busy irl schedule, and war phase is getting… long. feel free to pester me on tumblr, though, i tend to just spit up random stuff about the au there, and my askbox is always open.

Unbeknownst to the citizenry of the monastery, a battle had just drifted to a halt in their most holy sanctuary. 

Byleth was struck still by the sight before him; of Edelgard in the Flame Emperor’s armor, scowling defiantly at her other classmates. And it seemed the Black Eagles were just as shocked as well- clearly they’d not been aware of her identity. And to be fair, neither had Byleth, even as her Kindred-brother and teacher.

Dimitri’s anguished laugh echoed in the chamber, asking Edelgard if this was some kind of sick joke. He passed Byleth and ignored the hand on his shoulder, each step purposeful, before the imperial guards moved to stop him. His controlled pace broke into a run as he hurtled towards the Imperial soldiers and swept them aside with a wild swing of his lance. Dimitri cocked back his arm with lance still in hand, and Byleth’s body was moving before he commanded it. The Creator Sword extended and wrapped around the haft of Dimitri’s weapon like a whip, halting Dimitri’s movements before he could aim for Edelgard’s skull. 

Dimitri grunted at the strain and pulled at his weapon, stretching the sword taut between him and his soulmate.

Edelgard was standing her ground, stonefaced and determined with a fine imperial-make axe gripped in her armored hands. 

“Why.” Dimitri grit out “Are you helping her.” Phrased as not as question, but a demand and a plea. 

“She’s my sister, I can’t let you kill her. She’s _your_ sister too.”

Dimitri tugged on the lance still held firmly in place. “So you would absolve her of wrongdoing because of our relation?!”

“I would not!” Byleth replied, allowing a snakelike hiss to escape from between his teeth. “But I would have her answer for her actions _alive_!”

“They want her dead, Byleth. And you will not stop me!” Dimitri growled, but still showed no signs of retaliating against his brother, stayed by the inherent wrongness of attacking his own Kindred. 

Byleth chanced a look around him, quickly filing away the chaos in the Holy Tomb. Rhea was being accosted by imperial soldiers, and Byleth saw her slam her fist into one’s face so hard he dropped to the ground in a heap. The other students were in the midst of combat with thieves, still trying to retrieve crest stones, filling Byleth’s lungs with a rage and a sorrow he did not know the origin or meaning of. Edelgard was standing still, a silent sentinel overseeing the tiny battle, and Hubert-

Hubert was behind Dimitri, just about to release a Miasma spell upon the boy who threatened his emperor.

Byleth swore and pulled back with his all newfound strength from the Sealed Forest, yanking Dimitri off his feet and sending the prince sprawling. Byleth had no time to worry over miscalculating his own strength and rolled to the side, hissing when the dark spell clipped his shoulder. Dimitri scrambled to his feet and whirled around to face Hubert, stance alight with a protective rage after he caught a glimpse of Byleth’s decaying armor.

Claude, with his quick thinking and observant eye, took a moment’s notice off of the imperial soldiers while Raphael covered him, taking a quick and precise shot at Hubert. 

Hubert fell to one knee with an arrow buried in his thigh, and for the first time since her face was revealed Edelgard’s carefully maintained expression of indifference cracked. 

“Hubert, come! Let us retreat, we got what we came for.”

Hubert all but threw himself at Edelgard and met her hand, warping them both away and leaving Dimitri with an angry snarl as his lance broke where he stabbed at the emperor’s vassal. 

-

Byleth dispassionately watched the cleanup in the Holy Tomb; corpses hauled to the device that carried them to the surface, crest stones reverently and carefully replaced in their caskets, students casting healing magic on their fellows. He was startled out of his fugue by Rhea’s command.

“Come, Professor, let us return and decide upon the next course of action.”

Byleth nodded absentmindedly, and Claude approached him from the rear, using his presence to gently push Byleth to get moving out of the Tomb.

“I’m not a fan of the princess, but I do have a few questions for her.” Claude began. “She most certainly knows other secrets of Fodlan. We’re working with incomplete information, here.”

“I know.” Byleth murmured. “… But I still feel like I should have seen this.”

Claude shook his head in denial. “She was so determined to forsake anything for whatever her aim might be with the crest stones. You couldn’t have known.”

“… I don’t want to watch my family kill each other.” Byleth whispered. 

That brought Claude’s attention over to Dimitri, who seemed to be in a heated discussion with Dedue and Sylvain.

“At the very least I have no intention of killing her, not if I can avoid it.” 

“… Hey.” Claude said softly, and rolled up the sleeve of his uniform. “Things are gonna get rough, and probably will get worse. but if you need my help, call for it.”

Byleth glanced down at the arm stretched out to him, and saw the pink line across it. Almost absentmindedly, he ran his fingers beneath his breasts, where the yellow scars were. Claude’s scars. They truly were kindred, in a number of ways.

“Thank you.” Byleth said, a tiny, exhausted smile gracing his face. “I truly hope it doesn’t come to that, despite the circumstances. We should get back to the surface, though.”

Claude grinned, a little bit forced, and gently swatted Byleth’s arm. “Aw, c’mon, you should let your little siblings watch out for you once in a while.”

The levity was false, in the ascension out of the Tomb, but Byleth still appreciated it.

——

The imperial army- Edegard- came prepared, when the assault on the monastery began. Byleth had no idea how long the empire was forging the gears of war for, and almost didn’t want to know. It was already disquieting enough to see his sister, a girl just barely into legal adulthood and still wearing ribbons in her hair, march onwards alongside her men to Garreg Mach. 

By this time the walls had fallen, and the Archbishop bade Byleth to start the student’s evacuation. Byleth guarded the retreat of the youngest students, trusting his brothers to stay alive on the battlefield. 

He looked up from his task at the sound of a deep roar, and a dragon soaring down the cliffs to bathe the imperial army in dragonfire and crushing magic-orbs beneath her claws. Somehow, Byleth knew the dragon was Rhea, bellowing a war cry promising death to those who dared invade her nest. 

The pounding sounds of approaching monsters was all the warning anyone had as the demonic beasts erupted from the seething smoke and still-raging flames. The empire’s war dogs made something in Byleth wither in sorrow, for the fate of whatever humans were used to make them; and fear, for the comparatively fragile students that were still streaming out of the monastery.

The beasts targeted Rhea though, pinning her down with their weight despite their inability to scratch her hide too deeply. Byleth was about to turn away, confident a dragon could take a few beasts, when he caught sight of something else emerging from the smoke, slower but arguably more dangerous. Massive ballistae, the types used on large war-galleys and meant to pierce the hulls of even the largest ships. It seemed Edelgard had brought some of Enbarr’s navy to Garreg Mach, on wheels instead of water. 

When they took aim at the still-slowed Rhea, something in Byleth howled for their blood. It made no sense, Rhea was older than him, deadlier, and he feared her and despised her methods. 

Yet the instinct won, and Byleth was pelting across the battlefield and piercing the skull of a demonic beast with the Creator Sword. Rhea flung off her attackers and flew towards him, skidding to a halt and buffeting his clothes.

“**Why did you come?!**” she implored.

He opened his mouth to answer, and was interrupted by the snarl pointed over his shoulder. Behind him was the man Edelgard had been talking to in the plaza, pale as death and weaving a dark spell powerful enough to send Byleth’s hairs standing on end. 

The mage released the large wave, and however fast he was Byleth couldn’t escape. He held the sword up and hoped its inherent resistance to magic would cut through the tide. 

Byleth swore the ground shook beneath his feet, and then his vision was obscured by a mass of white and kicked-up dust. Rhea grunted in pain from where she crouched over Byleth, her head and wings burnt by the spell. 

The harpoons met their target a moment later. 

Rhea reared back and screamed, one harpoon driven into her neck and another into her ribcage. 

Byleth whirled to face the ballistae, they were too far away he needed to run, get Rhea (_Seiros_) to flee lest her life end, the safety of the throne mattered little when-

Six more bolts pierced Rhea’s scales, one finding her heart, sending her thrashing and Byleth’s heart dropping out of his chest.

Byleth turned to face the whistling sound of Miasma on pure, simple instinct, blocking the magic with the blade. Yet it still pushed him back like a physical force. He felt the ground scrape against his boots no matter how deeply he dug his heels into the ground, and then there was no more ground beneath him.

The last thing Byleth saw, falling down the ravine, was Rhea’s death throes. 

The last thing he heard was her howl of despair. 

“**MOTHER!**”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://anankos.tumblr.com/)
> 
> yay school phase done! some notes, for this last chapter.
> 
> Yeah, Claude had surgery. Almyra is actually more advanced than Fodlan as a whole, medically speaking. Byleth, of course, binds. 
> 
> Aaaaand we can see some of the Great Mergening really messing with Byleth’s head a bit. Gee, Byleth, I WONDER why even though shes a hell of a lot bigger and also you loathe her sometimes. It might be since you fusion-ha’d with her mother. That and some weird lurking knowledge about the throne and who rhea actually is. Rhea in general is fun because i LOVE her as a character but as a person she does some frankly horrible shit (namely, the 12 tries before byleth)
> 
> And yes, I did kill off Rhea. because i think its VERY INTERESTING as a method to show that edelgard's thing isnt just scalie racism. the church does not die with the archbishop, after all. so theres a very precarious position for edelgard, morally, and the average citizen, concerning their livelihood. 
> 
> knights of seiros are fighting the empire, either independently from the western or eastern church or attached to the few loyalist territories in the kingdom, or mingling with the alliance grand army? ok, easy enough to fight.   
... but. the thing is. i dont think edelgard really, really mapped out the implications of literally declaring war on the church and intending to conquer fodlan, though conquering the continent would have been on the docket anyways, shes… fairly blatant with some imperialist views from the get-go  
because what, did she think institutionalized, very common religion would just fade after killing the archbishop? what about the bishops, the cardinals, the other churches underneath the central church? what about the common man who still wishes to pray to the goddess? if there is no goddess and no church under adrestia, is worship of sothis legal? how many martyrs were made and spurred on the church's cause?
> 
> these things keep me up at night.


End file.
